


"Good Luck, and All My Love"

by thethinkingfruit



Series: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Collection [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, C-Support (Fire Emblem), Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, Sparring, Support Conversations (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethinkingfruit/pseuds/thethinkingfruit
Summary: Everyone mourns differently, and in times of duress, it's easy to forget that.Or, alternatively, a different take on Leonie/Byleth's C-Support.
Series: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603933
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	"Good Luck, and All My Love"

No one took the death of Captain Jeralt well. 

If you asked anyone, everyone worried about Leonie and the professor the most. Leonie didn't resent it, much. Everyone was mourning, after all. It was painful to lose someone, regardless of the circumstances. It was the violent, cruel end of the captain that was too much for many to bear. Leonie tried to bear it anyways. She tried to keep to what she imagined the captain would have wanted. People gave Leonie quiet condolences. They muttered about how they knew how much she looked up to him, but she brushed them off with a tired smile. Sure, he would have wanted people to mourn a little, but not let it consume them. To move on, to fight better, to bring justice upon his murderer. People told her that she was representing Jeralt's memory, that he would be proud of her. Their cloying statements disrupted her day on the regular.  
  
No one spoke like that to the professor. The whole thing bothered Leonie. Everyone flocked to her instead of the professor and it was easy to see why. It didn't matter that the professor was Jeralt's own flesh and blood. Everyone was off put by the professor's stoic demeanor about the entire thing. It was one thing to be in shock when something like this happened. It was another to be cold and emotionless. The professor accepted condolences in a monotone tone. Then they continued onward as if nothing had even happened. That bothered Leonie more than the unwanted attention of the mourners.  
  
Leonie tried to get the anger and grief out through training, first. Everyone couldn't slack on classes and training because the captain died. That was something that both the professor and Leonie agreed upon. Even more so, Leonie believed that everyone needed to be vigilant. The assassin could strike again at any time. Other teachers, the archbishop, or even the professor were at risk.  
  
One day, while training, these feelings came to a head. It was after lunch time. Leonie had skipped lunch, trying to squeeze in another session of training. Leonie didn't even notice that Byleth was in the courtyard. The only alert was a soft whap of a sword hitting a training dummy.   
  
"Professor!"  
  
Byleth paused. They had removed their coat and left their belongings in a small pile on the edge of the courtyard. They seemed startled that Leonie had called out to them--like they hadn't even known she was there. "Are you training too?"  
  
Byleth nodded.  
  
"I was about to finish up, but if you want to join in, I can stick around for a while longer. Would be better practice against a person instead of a hunk of wood."  
  
Byleth considered Leonie's offer, before replying, "I might be here a while." It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. A cryptic reply, typical of the professor.   
  
"Oh, no, it's fine! Just do your thing. Don't mind me." Leonie picked the training spear back up. The two of them walked to the courtyard, and took starting positions. Byleth still seemed hesitant, eyeing Leonie with a look of--concern? Confusion? It was hard to tell. The only difference from their usual blank expression was the quirk of an eyebrow, or a more down turned frown than usual.   
  
Both waited for the other to make the first move, standing still for ages. Leonie tried to smile.  
  
"Come on, don't be shy," prompted Leonie. Byleth blinked, and then gave the most minute nod, before charging.   
  
Byleth's training routine was rigorous, everyone knew that. But Leonie had never felt such a level of strength from the professor before. Every block made Leonie's arms ache, and not because she was doing a second round of training. Focused to the point of grim determination, Byleth backed Leonie into defeat over three times before they let the wooden sword fall slack. Leonie leaned forward, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. Her wooden lance clattered to the ground.   
  
"Phew! I'm beat...but we're finally done."  
  
Byleth hadn't broken a sweat. They picked up Leonie's lance and frowned at Leonie's crumpled stature. "You didn't have to stay for my whole routine." Then they put the training weapons back, and gathered up their coat and belongings. Leonie wiped her brow and sighed, forcing it from her lungs to try and show some kind of emotion in comparison to the professor.   
  
Even though Byleth won each sparring round, Leonie tried to be positive. As she warmed down, she went over the matches in her head. Stamina wise, Leonie had won. When it came to agility and strength, the professor outmatched her. The professor's style, while well-known by their students, was nothing like the captain's. Leonie modeled her own style after his, or at least what she knew of it. Perhaps that was why she had lost--Byleth knew the captain well enough to know all the tricks Leonie knew. Maybe even more. Leonie hated to admit it, but she was pretty confident that Byleth had been holding out on her.   
  
It irked Leonie. Between the two, even though Leonie gave more effort, Byleth received more of Jeralt's affections and attention. She knew, of course, that it was silly. Byleth, in theory, was Jeralt's own flesh and blood, after all. It made sense that he paid them more attention, but Byleth never seemed to show any sort of...well, anything. Only a few of the students could coax a smile out of them. Even fewer could actually get the professor to, goddess forbid, speak their mind.   
  
Leonie shook her head. It was a moot point now.   
  
Byleth returned with a canteen filled with water and passed it to Leonie.   
  
"I was..." Leonie took a long sip. "I was already training when you got here, and I finished right alongside you." Leonie wiped her mouth. "Guess I outlasted you, huh?"  
  
Byleth took the canteen back, brow furrowed ever a fraction more than before. The contrast between the professor and Jeralt was obvious, now that Jeralt was gone. He always said that Byleth took after their mother, but Leonie couldn't see one trace of the captain within them. The only thing that was similar, maybe, was Byleth's frankness.  
  
"It's not a competition," they replied.  
  
Leonie frowned, although it may have come off more as a glare. "Speak for yourself! I'm always looking to improve."  
  
Byleth paused, and then nodded. They corked the canteen and returned it to their person, preparing to leave. Leonie watched the strange, meticulous process. The professor ignored her while ensuring that everything was in its proper place. They fastened their coat back on their shoulders, and smoothed their clothes. Then they put their bag over their shoulder, and rummaged through it before they pulled out a book. They thumbed through it without a word. No good job, no congratulations. Not even a smile for how well Leonie did. Jeralt--in the rare instance that he did spar with her--always had some feedback, or a compliment. Now, no matter how much Leonie searched, she saw nothing of Jeralt. She stretched her arms over her head and said, "Hey, Professor! There's something I wanted to ask."  
  
Byleth turned back to her, an eyebrow raised. "Let's hear it, then." Leonie, in hindsight, should have sensed the plain confusion coming from the professor. She barreled on ahead regardless.   
  
"Are you really Captain Jeralt's kid?"  
  
The two stared at one another in silence. Byleth, for once, looked taken aback by Leonie's question. Their mouth pinched in concentration, before they replied, uncertain.  
  
"...That's what I'm told."  
  
A small surge of anger, spurred on by grief, flickered across Leonie's face. "That's a pretty detached tone to take about your family..." She crossed her arms. "What was your opinion of him, then? You must have looked up to him, at least?"  
  
"I respected him, of course." The professor sounded so detached that it was painful. That same rash, surge of anger sparked again, this time giving way to an inferno. For a brief moment, Leonie was furious that the professor didn't care. Their father was dead--buried! In the ground, never to laugh, or smile, or give gentle advice during training. All the professor could say was, "I respected him." Of course.  
  
"It doesn't sound like you really appreciated him."  
  
The professor eyes widening a fraction, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye.  
  
"I mean--really? It's like you know nothing about him and you traveled with him all your life. You didn't even know until you came here that he used to lead the Knights of Seiros, for goddess's sake!"   
  
"Well, no, but--" The professor's voice was soft, hesitant. Distressed, even, but Leonie continued.  
  
"If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be half the person you are now." Leonie was close to tears. She fought to get where she was. She idolized the captain. But now he was gone, and that his own child didn't even care that he was, was too much for her to take. She grit her teeth and spat out, "You probably never even thought about how lucky you were!"  
  
Something snapped. The book between Byleth’s hands wrinkled, the binding and cover crushed in the professor’s death grip. Byleth’s expression was unreadable as usual, but something was off. It was strange how no one saw the professor shed tears over their father, even when they buried him. Byleth’s only change was how they looked towards the ground now, instead of ahead like they used to. That was not grief, everyone thought, but exhaustion.   
  
Byleth’s hands trembled. Their lips moved, shaping words Leonie missed at first. She did the mental cartwheels of figuring out what was going on.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said, do not take my silence for indifference. Would you have me weep? Would you have me lose myself to despair?”  
  
Leonie faltered. Seeing the professor show any kind of emotion would be mildly unsettling for anyone, but to be alone when it happened was terrifying. “Well...no, but--”  
  
"Then let me mourn in peace. I know he meant a lot to you, but he was my father. He...he knew me better than anyone. And now he's gone."  
  
There were traces of tears. Byleth's gaze fell to the book they ruined. Then they shut their eyes before handing it to her. "Do not lecture me on how I must feel. Tell the rest of the class that we're doing self-study. I need a break. Good day, Leonie."  
  
Then they walked away as they arrived: stoic and silent. Leonie glanced down at the book. It was an old but unused tactics primer, with a faded black cover and the original author's name lost to time. The binding was beyond repair, crumpled in the middle. A lightning strike of creases and cracks splintering both the front and back covers.  
  
Despite a subtle feeling telling her not to, Leonie opened the book. Her stomach dropped. There, on the first page next to the title, was a dedication. It was much newer than the book itself with familiar handwriting.  
  
_Byleth -_  
  
_"The mediocre teacher tells,_  
_The good teacher explains,_  
_The superior teacher demonstrates,_  
_The great teacher inspires.”_  
  
_I don't know who originally wrote it, but aim for the last. These students are counting on you. Good luck, and all my love. You know you can count on me if you ever need anything._  
  
_\- Father_  
  
The page was stained with old tear drops, blurring some of the letters.  
  
"Oh...damn it," muttered Leonie, and closed the book.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere on the vast internet, I recall reading someone saying how Leonie's C support would read very differently if it was post Jeralt's death. This pseudo flash fiction was born from that and the fact that I'm trying to get back into warming up before working on personal projects. I also liked including the primer that you get as a tutorial for gifts at the beginning of the game. It just struck me as sweet that Jeralt thought it'd be a fitting gift to a new teacher.
> 
> The quote that Jeralt inscribed for Byleth is by William Arthur Ward, a dude who spent a lot of his life thinking up of short, inspiring sayings so we didn't have to.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Come say hi to me on[ Twitter!](https://twitter.com/athinkingfruit) I talk about writing, games, and do art sometimes, too.


End file.
